


He Plays the Violin

by Lavosse



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Monticello, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 19:21:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5796775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavosse/pseuds/Lavosse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas is troubled by things beyond his control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Plays the Violin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spnfamilyhasasherlockinthetardis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spnfamilyhasasherlockinthetardis/gifts).



> Canon-era (ish) Jeffmads fluffiness, based off of and named after the song _He Plays the Violin_ from the 1776 soundtrack. Enjoy.  
>  Beta'd by the unflappable editor spnfamilyhasasherlockinthetardis. Ily :)

“Tom, I have it! We shall invite the man to supper and get him to compromise over a meal.” Madison looked up, excited. He knew Hamilton, probably better than Thomas did, and he was certain there was no better way to convince him to agree to their compromise.

When no reply came--not even a traditional Jefferson “I agree now please shut up” groan--Madison glanced around the library, puzzled. “…Thomas?” The man had been here only a moment before, flung theatrically across the couch, claiming a headache.

A few sweet, mournful strains of violin music floated in through the study’s open door, presenting an easy answer to Madison’s confusion. _Ah. There you are._

Setting his notebook and pen down on the side table, Madison rose, stretched, and followed the music into the study.

Thomas stood facing the window, which, since it was night, reflected only the room instead of displaying Monticello’s grand front lawn. The door creaked as Madison eased it open, and Thomas turned. The music stopped abruptly, much to his disappointment.

There was really no better setting for Thomas in a dramatic mood. The study was what the man called the “height of fashion”: beautiful hardwood floors supporting mahogany bookshelves at one end of the room on either side of the doorway, and a matching writing desk at the other end, facing the row of outlooking windows.

“My apologies, James. The mood struck me.”

Madison shook his head, dismissing the matter. “Is there something amiss?” he asked carefully, hovering near the door, ever wary of Thomas in a mood.

The taller man sighed, replacing the fiddle in its case and running his hands through his hair, a beautiful mess of auburn waves that Madison had always envied.

“I fear that the predicament of your marriage troubles me. I am preoccupied with thoughts of what would transpire if your wife should discover our affair.”

Surprised by Thomas’ sudden, uncharacteristic verbosity, Madison didn’t reply for several moments. When he did, it was pained. “Thomas, you misunderstand.”

“Do I?”

“I tell my wife everything.”

The taller man’s eyes grew wide. “I—”

“Dolley is exceedingly happy that I have you, because she does not desire…my affections.”

“Pardon?” Thomas peered at him questioningly for a moment before lowering his voice. “You mean she prefers the…company of women?”

Madison tried hard not to laugh. For somebody who had spent years in France and was currently engaged in an affair with another man, Thomas was often comically easy to scandalize. “I mean she says she prefers no _company_ of either sort.”

Curious and fascinated, Thomas began to relax, leaning back against the desk. “What, then, happened on your wedding night?”

“That’s a rather intrusive question.”

“James…”

“We dismissed the servants, attempted to make dinner, and discussed the contents of a book we were both familiar with. I don’t commit myself to unsure situations, Thomas. Our secrets are safer with Dolley than anywhere else.”

There was a minute of quiet as Thomas processed the unexpected information, eyes shining as bright as stars. He seemed to stand taller, more confidently, like he’d just let a heavy cloak fall from his shoulders.

“Did I ever tell you how I courted my wife, James?” he asked, displaying a mischievous grin.

Madison raised a questioning eyebrow.

Taking up his violin, Thomas began to play. The piece was somehow tense and satisfied all at once, and the effect was magnificent. As the music filled the empty air, James marveled at how it filled his spirit as well.

The piece grew more frantic as Thomas drew closer, not so much bowing as sawing now. It was an adrenaline rush, the frantic beat of a lovesick heart, backed by the simple content theme of reciprocated love.

Then the violin was discarded and James barely noticed the lack of music as Thomas whirled him into a waltz, and they were twirling around the room in three-four time to the beat of their hearts. It was ecstatic. All issues were resolved or else they had never existed, and either way Madison couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Thomas held him, and they danced, and they were all the world.

Eventually the dance slowed. They turned small circles in the center of the room. The imaginary music was gone, leaving only its tempo behind in a rhythm of shared breaths and heartbeats.

“It seems to work fairly well, this method of yours,” James murmured breathlessly, cheek pressed to Thomas’ chest.

“I’ve found it to be reliable,” the taller man chuckled, leaning down to brush his lips against James’.

“I love you. Dearly. No impending scandal will change that.”

Thomas tucked his chin on top of James’ head.

“And I you, my darling.”

**Author's Note:**

> Look James Madison would be an awesome boyfriend fight me.


End file.
